Mr Undertaker
by Madame Nightmare
Summary: For the longest time, Myrtis and her cat Ms. Witherspoon had been roaming the streets of London with no place to call home. One fateful day, as life was becoming more bleak for the girl and her companion, Myrtis is taken in by a strange man known as Undertaker. Despite his kindness, the former street-urchin wonders if she could trust him as strange things occur ever since they met.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The streets of London had two sides to it: one side was full of laughter and friendly smiles from one gentleman and lady to the other. The other side was full of grief, vulnerability, violence, and deviousness.

At age 10, Myrtis knew this side all too well. Being a street-urchin since she could remember, she had no memory of her mother nor her father. Her only companion that accompanied her through the god-forsaken streets was her cat, Ms. Witherspoon. Myrtis currently resided in an alley beside a peculiar shop that no one seemed to dare approach, holding the old, motionless cat close to her as tears streamed down her thin, pale cheeks.

The cold, unforgiving autumn air stung her flesh as she mourned over her dear cat. As the day went on, the cold grew more unforgiving; Myrtis felt her eyelids grow weary as it began to claim her. Before she blacked out, a dark figure approached her. Was this death? She didn't know, but she was too cold to speak or to stay awake. The last thing she saw was a wide grin on the figure's face.

Silence and darkness surrounded the child until Myrtis managed to open her eyes once more, finding herself indoors in a dark room. She felt warmer and looked down to see that a heavy, old blanket was covering her. She nestled into a bit more, feeling comforted by the warmth. However, something was missing.

Her heart began to race as she realized Ms. Witherspoon was gone.

"Ms. Witherspoon?" She called out as more tears threatened to stream down her raw cheeks. "Ms. Witherspoon!"  
Footsteps could be heard coming towards the room Myrtis occupied. She looked over with fear in her eyes as the door opened, revealing the figure she had saw before she passed out. He was holding a candle to help brighten up the room a little, a big smile spread across his face as he laid eyes on her. That is, if had any; Myrtis couldn't see the strange man's eyes for his long, silver hair hung over them like a curtain.

"Awake now, are you?" He asked in a slight whimsical manner. "I was wondering if you ever would."

Myrtis wasn't sure about the stranger's sense of humor as he chuckled at his last statement.

"Who are you? What did you do to Ms. Witherspoon?!" She asked hastily, the tears stored in her eyes now spilling down.

"Ms. Witherspoon?" The man asked, tilting his head a bit but then snapping it back into its normal position. "Oh, you must mean the cat. No need to cry. The pretty thing is alright. Come, I'll show her to you."

The little girl stared at him as he reached out his hand to her, not sure if she could believe him, nor trust him for that matter. His clothes were shady, all black from his strange hat to his boots, except for a gray sash going across from his shoulder to his opposite hip; there was also a dull-gold chain going across his waist with what appeared to be lockets dangling from it. Myrtis looked back at his outreached hand noticing the man's long fingers that had long black nails sprouting from the tips.

However, she felt figured that if she wanted to see her beloved cat again, she would have to put her trust in this stranger and go with him. Hesitantly, Myrtis gave him her hand, allowing him to close his spindly fingers around it and lead her out of the room. She looked around a bit as they traveled down a hall to a lone door at the end of it.

"Normally, I wouldn't want anyone coming in to my work space," the man said. "But since the lovely kitty belongs to you, I'm willing to make an exception."

Myrtis peeked around him as he released her hand and opened the door to reveal a well-lit room. The man blew out the candle he was holding and set it off to the side on a table as he entered the room and approached an even larger table at its center.

Sure enough, Ms. Witherspoon was lying on her side on top of it. However, her eyes were still closed, and she still wasn't moving.

"I-I thought you said she was alright." Myrtis whimpered, earning her a smile from the silver haired man.

"She is. Here, let me show you."

He gently took her hand once more hand had it form two fingers as he gently lifted the cat's hind leg and placed Myrtis's two fingers on the inner thigh. He then proceeded to slide her hand up against Ms. Witherspoon's abdomen and moved her fingers gently back and forth.

Myrtis's eyes widen as she felt Ms. Witherspoon's pulse.

"It was a bit tricky to find her pulse," the man admitted. "Then again, I normally work on dead humans."

Myrtis opened her mouth to say something, but then Ms. Witherspoon began to stir. She carefully took the cat in her arms and held her close.

"Careful now, she does have some stitching, so she may be a bit sore" The man warned as he watched the cat gain consciousness.

Myrtis smiled at him a bit, now a bit shy around the stranger.

"Thank you, mister."

She stared at him as he chuckled and leaned in closer to her.

"No need to thank me, deary. The pleasure is all mine. However, there is no need to for formality here; Undertaker will suffice."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Myrtis sat out in the parlor while Undertaker was fixing something for her to eat. She looked around the room, taking note of its dreary, morbid theme. The walls were lined with coffins and supported shelves that held curious trinkets and jars. Some even had skulls placed on them.

The sight of it all caused Myrtis to shudder, but at the same time, the young girl was fascinated. It was like she was in a different realm.

She held Ms. Witherspoon close, allowing the cat's soft purring to comfort her. Ms. Witherspoon had been more conscious than before, and was quite content in Myrtis's arms.

"Hold her any tighter and you may just end up smothering her."

Myrtis turned her head to see Undertaker approaching her with a bowl in his hands; offering it to her. Myrtis carefully put Ms. Witherspoon down on to the floor and took it from him, looking into it.

' _Soup?_ ' She wondered, letting the steam rise up and caress her cheeks.

"Drink up while it's hot," Undertaker encouraged. "It looks like you haven't eaten in a long while. Which wouldn't be surprising since I _did_ find you in the alley."

Myrtis drew the bowl to her lips; carefully slurping its contents. It scalded her tongue, which caused her some slight discomfort, but it was good.

"Why?" She finally asked. "Why did you help me when no one else would?"

Undertaker's usual, slightly unnerving grin formed on his face as he processed her question. Myrtis could feel his hidden eyes penetrate through her golden ones as if he were looking in her soul.

"It would be a shame to let the young waste away," he replied with a chuckle. "Especially when the time for their souls' to be reaped isn't for a while now."

Myrtis only stared back at him, not really sure how to respond, nor did she really understood what he meant.

"What is your name, dear?" Undertaker asked, catching Myrtis off guard.

"What?"

"Your name. What is it?" He repeated.

"Myrtis." She replied before taking another sip of her soup.

This earned her some laughter from the silver haired man, and she was confused as to why.

"What's so funny?"

Undertaker covered his mouth to hide his laughter as he slowly regained his composure.

"Nothing at all, unless you were to consider that name would sound more fitting for a noble than a street urchin."

Myrtis scowled at him, still not finding Undertaker humor funny at all. She tried to hide it, but tears began to well up in her eyes. Noticing this, Undertaker gently laid his hand on her head and tussled her mangy, dirty brown hair.

"Now, now, no need to get upset." He said with a soft giggle. "I was only teasing."

"I don't like being teased..." Myrtis mumbled, moving out from under Undertaker's hand.

She didn't like anyone touching her, let alone strangers. Even though he introduced himself to her, Mytis still considered Undertaker a stranger.

Undertaker only grew more amused as moved away from him.

"A bit on the sensitive side, are ya?" He asked, he then pulled out a jar, as if out of thin air, and offered it to her. "Care for a biscuit?"

Myrtis stared at the bone-shaped biscuits in the jar and hesitantly took one. She nibbled into it, her taste-buds immediately greeted by a cinnamony flavor. Realizing she liked it, Myrtis ate the rest and looked over at Undertaker to see that he looked pleased and take one for himself. He then place the lid back on the jar and got up to place it on his desk.

"How long have you been in the streets of London?"

"I don't know, Mr. Undertaker." Myrtis replied before looking around the shop once more, spotting some rather noticeable cobwebs. "How long have you been in this shop?"

"For a while now," he answered, turning to face her. "Long before you were born."

Although he preferred that she wouldn't be so formal when addressing him, but he didn't mind it that much. She was a child after all.

"Why is it so...dusty?" Myrtis asked, feeling chills go down her spine once again as the creepy vibe of the place began to return to her.

Undertaker sighed a little, but his smile remained.

"I'm afraid I've been much too busy over the years to keep up with the upkeep. However, I find the way it looks to be quite enjoyable. I love seeing the looks on customer's faces once they walk on in, it is quite hysterical!"

Myrtis watched him as he laughed until she had an idea.

"I could help you."

Undertaker's laughing ceased as her words rang in his ears. He looked at her with an interested look.

"Oh really?"

Myrtis nodded, however there was a hint of uncertainty.

"Yes...Um, what is it you do here, Mr. Undertaker?"

"I'm simply a mortician." He replied. "I do all the dirty work no one else wants to do. For you see, it's my job to take care of the dead, and it certainly isn't a job for a child such as yourself."

"I wasn't exactly planning on working of dead people," Myrtis admitted. "But I could help out by sweeping or something, and Ms. Witherspoon could help by catching any mice."

Undertaker looked over at the cat to see that she was curled up on his desk asleep. He put his finger to his chin as though he were thinking deeply about the offer.

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose I can't kick you back out into the streets after feeding you and providing shelter, so I guess it would be alright for now."

Myrtis smiled and couldn't help but jump up and hug the mortician.

"Thank you, Mr. Undertaker!"

"You will start first thing in the morning," Undertaker said as he patted her head. "Though there is one thing you should know before then."

"What's that?" Myrtis asked, tilting her head as her eyes lit up with curiosity as she looked up at him.

"Stay out of the back room, no matter what." He replied, his smile disappearing as he sounded a bit more serious than he had been since she met him yesterday. "I allowed you to go back there for Ms. Witherspoon, but that's it. Understand? It wouldn't be pleasant sight to see me working on the dead."

Myrtis was a bit unsettled by Undertaker's sudden change of tone, but nodded.

"I won't go into the back room, I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After their little talk, Myrtis was now bathing in a tub of warm water. Undertaker had suggested that she should bathe before her first day of sweeping the floors of the parlor. ' _Wouldn't want to catch any diseases, would we?_ ' he had asked her, scaring her into agreeing with him.

Myrtis sighed as she tried to wash herself to the best of her ability; she hadn't bathed in a long time, if not at all. She thought about the times people would pass her by in the streets and give her looks of disgust or pity based on how unclean she was.

Now all of that was behind her.

Ms. Witherspoon meowed loudly from the side of the tub, wanting to be with Myrtis. The little girl giggled as she looked down at the cat.

"Ms. Witherspoon, you'll get wet if you jump in. I'll be out in a bit, I'm almost done."

As promised, Myrtis got up from the tub and carefully climbed out. Her brown hair was dripping as she wrapped a fuzzy towel around her now exposed body; shivering by the sudden coolness in the air. After poorly drying herself, she put her rags back on and walked out of the room with Ms. Witherspoon following close behind.

Now Myrtis was in the kitchen. It was rather small and shared the same gloomy features as the rest of the parlor. Perhaps she'll have to sweep the entire building, except for the back room of course. She had promised Undertaker that she would stay out of there.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as the oven baked whatever was inside it.

 _'Probably some more of those bone-shaped biscuits_.' Myrtis thought to herself before leaving the kitchen, losing interest.

The kitchen lead into the hall which lead to the main room of the parlor in one direction and to the back room in the other. Myrtis's gaze fell upon the back room door as it opened; Undertaker closed the door behind him before making his way down the hall towards her.

"Done with your bath already?" He asked as he ran his spindly fingers through her hair. "Heh-heh! My, your hair is soaked. We don't want you to meet with Death this early from a chill, do we?"

Undertaker took her hand in his and guided her back to the bathroom. He picked up the towel she used to dry and gave her head a good rubbing. Myrtis groaned a bit and tried to move away, but it was no use. Once her hair was good and dry, Undertaker placed the towel on the edge of the tub and looked at her disheveled rags.

Myrtis looked at him with curiosity.

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

"No, not at all," Undertaker chuckled. "It just appears you could use some new clothes. I'll be sure to find something for you in the morning."

Myrtis smiled; the thought of being able to wear something different for once excited her. It would be like being a whole new person. Almost subconsciously, Myrtis found herself hugging Undertaker, who was now looking down at her in amusement.

"My, my, what's this for?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I want to thank you for helping me when no one else would, Mr. Undertaker." Myrtis replied. "Ms. Witherspoon is thankful too."

As if on cue, the old cat was now rubbing against Undertaker's leg, purring loudly. Undertaker smiled a bit wider and picked up Ms. Witherspoon.

"Aww, the little kitty wants to thank me too? How cute~" He giggled before turning his attention back to Myrtis. "It was no trouble at all~"

Silence had filled the room as Myrtis laid in her make-shift bed, which was really just a coffin with blankets to cover herself with. Oddly enough, the coffin was quite comfortable despite the unsettling idea of sleeping in one. Undertaker had assured her that he wouldn't put the cover on and bury her alive; it wasn't even fitted for her.

Myrtis shivered a bit as she remembered how he said it. Of course he was smiling as he spoke, but there was something forboding about it. She quickly shook the thought out of her head and began to wonder where Ms. Witherspoon went off to.

Myrtis carefully climbed out of the coffin and began her search.

It was darker at night in the parlor than it normally was in the daylight; everything appeared more ominous than it was and it put Myrtis on edge. She knew that she was supposed to be sleeping, but she just couldn't without her beloved cat.

Movement caught her attention and forced her to look down the hall towards the back room. A pair of glowing green eyes stared back at her; it was Ms. Witherspoon sitting by the door.

Myrtis quietly approached the old cat, but then she perked up as she began to hear noises from the room. She placed her ear against the door to listen to what was going on inside.

All she heard was silence.

"Let's go back to bed, Ms. Witherspoon." Myrtis whispered as she picked up the cat before turning to head back to her room.

She sighed in relief as they made it back without incident. Myrtis placed Ms. Witherspoon in the coffin before climbing in after her. She pulled the covers over her head and finally drifted off to sleep.

Myrtis wasn't asleep for long as she heard Ms. Witherspoon meow at whoever entered the room. A dim light of a candle glowed from behind her closed eyes as she grew more conscious. She knew it was Undertaker as he had an eerie prescence that seems to follow him everywhere; Myrtis refused to open her eyes as he didn't seem to be his whimsical old self at the moment.

She tried to keep herself from shuttering as he ran his cold fingers through her bangs to brush them away from her eyes. The gesture was tender, yet nerve-wracking.

Ms. Witherspoon meowed again as if scolding Undertaker for touching her. Myrtis could hear him softly chuckle at the cat before leaving the room. 


End file.
